Sacrifice
by AccioAutumn
Summary: Joey Richter, a 17-year-old boy from District 7, gets chosen to be in The Hunger Games. Things get really bad really fast, and soon enough everybody's either falling in love or dying. Or maybe both. Team StarKid AU. Contains mostly Richpez and Breredith. Rated T for language and violence.
1. The Reaping

Joey Richter woke up with a start, gasping for breath, doused in freezing sweat. He stumbled out of his creaky old bed, not wanting to wake up his mother, and managed to make it to the bathroom before vomiting into the rusty toilet. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he flushed, then glared at himself in the dusty, cracked mirror before announcing aloud to himself:

"What a lovely day."

"Joey?" a frail, raw voice called from the other room. "Joey, are you awake?"

Rolling his eyes slightly, Joey made his way back to the bedroom. His mother, a thin woman with choppy, uneven, greying brown hair and lifeless brown eyes was sitting up in her bed, a worried look on her delicately wrinkled face.

"Are you all right?" she asked her one and only son.

"I'm fine," Joey lied smoothly. "Just had a nightmare, y'know?"

"What could you possibly have had a nightmare about?"

Joey closed his eyes momentarily, and fought to keep himself from screaming out. When he opened his eyes, his mother was still staring at him with the same concerned look, so he walked over to sit on the edge of her bed, trying his best to look calm and collected.

"Don't you remember what today is, Mom?"

Ms. Richter shook her head slowly, eyes wide.

Joey sighed and ran his fingers through his longish, greasy brown hair before speaking in a slow voice, begging his mother to remember, to understand, _to get better,_ "It's the seventy-sixth Hunger Games."

Ms. Richter let out a short laugh. "Oh, no it's not, Joey!"

"Yeah, it is, Mom."

Her smile faltered a bit. "It can't be."

"It is."

She was downright frowning now … as she should be. "_How?"_

Joey shrugged. "They brought it back."

"They _can't!" _Ms. Richter threw up her arms in frustration. "That damn thing ended when I was young, Joey! The only reason Gavin and I had you and Grace was because there were no Hunger Games! We knew our children would never have to compete in such a retched, terrible thing! Stop kidding around, Joey, it's not funny – hey, where _is_ Gavin?"

Joey bit his lip. "Mom," he said quietly, willing his voice not to shake, "have you been taking your pills?"

"Pills? What pills, Joey? _Where's your father?"_

Sighing, Joey stood up and walked out of the room, into the small, broken-windowed kitchen. It smelt like burnt bread, which was exactly what was placed lazily on the kitchen counter. Joey grabbed the loaf, cut it into slices and began spreading jam on two of them – raspberry on one, strawberry-blueberry on the other. Once he was done that, he reached into the high cupboard and pulled out the small bottle of yellowish-coloured pills. He extracted one little pill and squished it carefully into one of the pieces of bread. He sniffled, sighed again, then turned and began rummaging through the small chest that was seated in the corner near the front door. He found the worn and torn journal, tucked it under his arm, then grabbed the two slices of bread and re-entered the bedroom, where his mother was still seated on the bed, looking around like a frightened yet beautiful doe.

"Hi, Mom," Joey said, approaching her. "You hungry?"

"Oh, thank you, Joey," Ms. Richter accepted the strawberry-blueberry jammed bread and took a large bite.

"I brought something else for you," Joey added, a little quieter, showing her the cover of the journal. "Want to read it while I get ready?"

Ms. Richter eyed the journal suspiciously. "What is it?"

"A book."

"Written by _who?" _

"You."

"I wrote a book?"

"Yes," Joey forced a smile. "A good one, too, I might add."

Ms. Richter blushed. "Oh, Joey …" She took the journal, glanced at the cover, then looked back at her son. "Joey?"

"Hmm?"

"Where's your father … and your sister?"

Joey forced another smile, though this one was even harder than the first. "Just read the book, Mom."

She nodded, taking another bite of her bread. Joey got up quietly, grabbed the nicest clothes he owned, then hurried to the bathroom to bathtub. He didn't want to be around while she was reading the journal … he didn't want to deal with her sobbing, her questions, her confusion, her anger. Not today. Not on Reaping Day.

* * *

Joey spent longer than necessary in the bath, washing his hair twice, scrubbing his skin until it was red, pretending he couldn't hear his mother crying from the other room. Eventually he had to get out, dry off and put on his nicest clothes – a pale blue button-up that used to belong to his father, and jeans without rips in the knees. He tiptoed out of the bathroom and started hesitantly toward the bedroom, which was silent now. He stopped on the way and glanced out the window; it was light outside now, the dull sun shining down on the tall trees and the dusty red dirt.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the bedroom. It was empty.

"Mom?" he called out. "Mom, where are you?"

No answer. He stepped inside, looking all around, under the beds, even in the clothing drawers. Mrs. Richter was no where, and there was no evidence whatsoever to prove that she _had_ ever been there. The journal was gone, along with her slice of bread, and the ratty, frayed blanket that had been on her bed. There was still clothing in the drawers, but that meant nothing.

_"MOM!"_ Joey shouted now, his heart beginning to speed up. He rushed toward the window, pushing back the blinds to find it wide open. He sighed, leaning through the cracked glass, looking for any sign of his mother, but saw nothing. Defeated, he walked slowly back into the bathroom, combed his hair and got himself looking the absolute best he could, then put on his shoes and ventured outside.

Without giving it much thought, he made his way to his mother's childhood best friend's house. Her name was Freya. She was a kind woman with thin fingers and a pointed nose. She was the same age as Ms. Richter, though she looked much younger and was certainly less insane. As soon as she opened her front door to see Joey she embraced him tightly, knowing very well what happened before he had the chance to say one word.

"Is she here?" Joey asked patiently, as Freya tightened her grip round Joey's waist. Freya had always loved Joey like a son (she was unable to have children), and only got more protective after Joey's sister and father died, and Joey's mother lost it. When Joey was younger he used to wish that Freya would adopt him so he'd never have to deal with Ms. Richter again, but he never told anyone that. Of course he loved his mother, but sometimes she was just a little too much to deal with, especially to a seventeen-year-old boy.

"No," said Freya, now cupping the back of Joey's head with one of her hands. "But I'll find her, all right? I don't want you to worry about her."

"But –"

"When's the Reaping?" Freya talked over him. "You should probably get going, shouldn't you? I'll find her, I'll find Jane. Don't worry, Joey, okay?"

Joey paused, then said, "No, Freya, you have to come with me."

"What?"

"You have to come to the Reaping, too. You can't skip it, remember? You'll get the death penalty."

"But Jane –"

"She'll be fine, Freya."

A painful look of disappointment flashed in the woman's pale grey eyes. "Joey, if Jane doesn't come, _she'll _get the death penalty."

Joey gulped, and said, his voice barely more than a whisper, "D-doesn't matter."

Freya pursed her lips. "Joey, you _know_ you don't mean that."

"Maybe I do."

"Just go, Joey," Freya said, a little shakily. "Go to the Reaping, don't worry, I'll find your mother … _Go."_

He hesitated, before turning and leaving rather quickly. Walking along the gravel road, he was met with many familiar faces, all headed toward the same place – the Town Square. Everyone between the ages of twelve and eighteen lined up to get their fingers pricked, then went off to their designated roped-off areas. In his section, Joey stared at everyone, noticing many were reacting in different ways – some looked downright terrified (their parents had probably told them all about the Games); others looked just confused (had no idea what was going on).

You see, many years ago a girl called Katniss Everdeen-Mellark had caused a rebellion and managed to stop the Hunger Games … that is, until she died. With her dead, it didn't matter anymore. They killed off the whole of the Everdeen-Mellark family, and most of their close friends, and have just re-started the Hunger Games again. Joey knew all this solely because when he was really young his father had told him the story of Katniss Everdeen-Mellark, and after Mr. Richter had passed, Joey stole a book on Katniss and just the Hunger Games in general from a local store. The Hunger Games disgusted him, and he felt oddly betrayed that the Capitol had started them again, after Katniss had worked so hard to put a stop to them.

"Hello!" said an odd-looking lady with curly, pale pink hair, blue eyes and a strange accent, walking onto the stage. She made Joey a little uncomfortable. "Hello, I am Aurora Alcove, District 7's escort! I have a little video for you all, and then we'll do the Reaping, yes?"

There was complete silence. A giant TV screen which Joey hadn't noticed before lit up behind Aurora and began playing a video, explaining vaguely why the Hunger Games was a good thing. Joey rolled his eyes and fixed his hair, not paying much attention. The video ended and Aurora stepped back onto the stage, laughing slightly, followed by three peacekeepers. One peacekeeper set down a small table, and the other two set two glass bowls onto the table. They walked off stage, and Aurora moved the microphone so it was directly behind the table.

"Okay," she said, beaming at the crowd, showing off her pointed, bleach-white teeth, "ladies first."

She lowered her hand slowly into the bowl on the left. Joey glanced over at the group of girls on the other side, all of whom looked extremely nervous now. Aurora pulled out the name, read it, and then smiled mysteriously.

_"Arielle Goldman."_

Joey whipped around and scanned the crowd of parents and people older than eighteen for anyone freaking out. He caught sight of a woman sobbing hysterically before turning back around and watching the short, thin girl with curly brown hair walk onto the stage. She looked about thirteen or fourteen.

Arielle stood next to Aurora, her brown eyes glazed and unfocused. She wasn't crying. She didn't even look _sad._

"Very good," said Aurora, patting Arielle's shoulder gently before turning and dipping her hand into the bowl on the right. She extracted a random paper, read it, then tapped the microphone before announcing:

_"Joey Richter."_

* * *

A/N: Hi! This is the first story I've written on here! So, just a quick disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Team StarKid or The Hunger Games in any way. Team StarKid are real people, and the people whom I am writing about are just fictionalised versions, loosely based off of the members. All relationships implied are solely for the purpose of the story. The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. None of the stuff in this story really happened, of course.

Anyway, tell me what you think so far! Bye!


	2. Leaving

Joey sat on the faded brown couch, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was struggling to keep his breath normal, constantly biting his lip so he wouldn't cry. This was the point where his family was supposed to come and say goodbye to him, but no one came. It was most likely that his mother and Freya were dead by now – the peacekeepers didn't kid around about the death penalty for skipping the Reaping.

He wondered about Arielle's family. Did she just have a mother, like Joey? If so, what happened to her father, and possible siblings? Did they die, like Joey's had? How did they die? Does she look more like her mother or her father? Why had they chosen the name 'Arielle'? Is her mother nice? Is her mother _mentally stable?_

Soon enough a peacekeeper came in and escorted Joey out of the Justice Building, toward a large, earth-coloured train. Arielle was there, still completely emotionless. Inside the train, Aurora showed them to their rooms, and then informed them that she'd come and get them before dinner. She also hinted that they should probably change their outfits, into something more _presentable_.

Joey stood completely still in the centre of his new pristine bedroom for a long time before stepping through the door into the bathroom. The shower was the most confusing thing he ever he'd ever had the displeasure to deal with, but he somehow managed to clean his hair and wash his body – or, really, the shower did it for him. He stopped the water, but before he could step out the shower began blowing warm air from every direction, drying him. It was a feeling he didn't necessarily like, but couldn't stop. When the shower finally let him out, he glanced at himself in the mirror and groaned. He ran his fingers through his messy, frizzy hair, then turned and walked into the bedroom, toward another door.

This was one was a walk-in closet. It took him a while to find clothing that fit, because he was rather thin for a boy his age. Once he was wearing a nice, soft, fresh-smelling shirt and dress pants only people from the Capitol wear, he went over and collapsed on the big, fluffy bed. It was probably the biggest bed he'd ever seen – bigger than both his and Ms. Richter's would be together.

_Ms. Richter._

Joey's breath caught in his throat when he thought about his poor, poor mother. He hoped she was dead, so she wouldn't have to be nursed back to sanity by Freya, then get told that she was alone. That her pride and joy, _her darling little boy,_ had been taken away in the Hunger Games … and was going to die. This is when Joey started to cry. Just the thought of his mother waking up every morning without him made him feel sick to his stomach. God, he hoped more than anything that she was dead. And he hated himself for hating such a terrible thing upon the woman whom gave him life, but it was his honest opinion. It would be _better _if she was dead, really. Because Joey had no chance whatsoever of making it out of the Games alive, even he knew that.

* * *

There was a light knock. "Joey?"

Joey leapt up, wobbled slightly, then wiped his eyes, brushed off his shirt and opened the door. Aurora stood there, smiling widely, though it did falter the tiniest bit when she saw Joey's red, puffy eyes. She raised a blonde eyebrow, questioning whether or not he was alright, and Joey stiffened his jaw and nodded once.

"Come on, then," Aurora said, motioning for him to follow her.

He did. They stopped at a door which looked exactly like all the other doors, and Aurora knocked. Almost immediately Arielle appeared. She was wearing a pale pink dress which made the blush on her cheeks more prominent, though it also made her look small and washed-out. Aurora lead the two Tributes back down the hallway, past Joey's room, into a large room with a long, wood and glass table topped with food of many different varieties. Strange-looking people sat around this table – all from the Capital, most likely. There was also nametags in front of every plate.

Nudging Arielle forward gently, Joey went over and sat at the spot with the nametag reading '_Male Tribute'. _Arielle sat across, behind the nametag _'Girl Tribute'. _Joey stared at her, trying to catch her eye and maybe see what she really thought of this whole ordeal (for her expression still seemed pretty limited), but Arielle was extremely good at avoiding eye contact. Defeated, he began looking round the table. On his right was an empty chair, with the nametag '_Keeth Trackman'. _On his left was a girl, '_Lola Michaud' _who had very translucent, unhealthy-looking skin along with florescent green eyes.

"How much longer should we wait for Keeth?" Lola spoke up. Her voice was higher than Joey had expected.

"Not much longer," mumbled Aurora, who was seated on the left of Arielle, as she glanced at the wall clock.

Then, as if on cue, a tall man with tanned skin and sea blue eyes walked in, huffing and puffing as though he had just been out for a run. He flashed a quick smile at everyone before coming over to sit beside Joey, who stared blankly.

"Sorry I'm late," said Keeth, though he didn't look very sorry at all. "I was looking at the sky."

The person on the right of Arielle snorted. He had longish black hair, misty green eyes and multiple frown lines. He was probably the most normal-looking out of everyone one, and he was apparently named '_Caldwell Fairbane'. _Keeth scowled at him, then everyone began dishing out food onto their plates. With slight nervous hesitation, Joey followed suit, taking a bit of everything. There was so much delicious food, and it never seemed to end.

Once everyone had had their filling (Joey couldn't help but notice Arielle ate next to nothing), most of Capitol-people leant back in their seats and yawned.

"So," started Caldwell Fairbane, looking at Joey, then Arielle, then Joey again, "I'm your guys' mentor. I'll give you both advice on how to win the Games and stuff. You know – how to stay alive."

"How _do _we stay alive?" said Joey quietly.

"You fight. You can't be afraid to win. You have to forget your morals and kill people," he said, his voice hard. "That's the only way."

Joey and Arielle's eyes both widened rather dramatically. Caldwell stood up, placing his napkin on his plate, and left the room.

There was silence for a few minutes, then Keeth cleared his throat.

"I'm Keeth," he said, though that was obvious. "I'll be Arielle's stylist. These are my assistants," – he motioned at two woman near the end of the table – "Odyssey and Phavia." Odyssey, a plumper woman, had a pink tinge to her skin and wore only white, including her hair. Phavia, who was freakishly thin, had dark blue hair and pure black eyes.

"And I am Arny, Joey's stylist," a lady near the end of the table cut in. She had bleach blonde hair and wore an array of unmatched, neon coloured clothing. "This is my crew, Fronk and Giovanna." Fronk had red spots all over him and was completely bald, not a hair in sight on his face, arms or anywhere. Giovanna's face was covered with metal piercings that looked very uncomfortable.

"Good, good," said Aurora. She wanted the attention back on her. "Now, I think it's time Joey and Arielle headed off to bed. I'll show you back to your rooms, come along."

* * *

A/N: Hi! So, the chapter's are most likely going to be really boring until they enter the Games, so sorry about that! I'll try and hurry it along :)


	3. The Capitol

As soon as Joey was in his room, the door closed and locked behind him, he undressed and crawled into his bed. The clean-smelling sheets wrapped around him like a hug. He threw all the pillows onto the floor and made a sort of nest using only the blankets, then stared up at the blank ceiling, feeling slightly nauseous.

_I'm going to be in the Hunger Games, _he told himself. _So is Arielle Goldman. I'll never see my mother ever again. Even if I win – which I won't – I still won't see her, because she's fucking dead. I'm going to the Capitol. To die. I hope it doesn't hurt too much. But it doesn't matter much, because I'll get to see my father again, and my sister. And my mother, of course. Mom will be OK in heaven (if that is where I am to go), because she'll be with Dad, and Dad will make her OK. Dad will make her sane. Dad always loved Mom so much … and me … and Grace …_

He kept on thinking until his eyes got droopy. His breathing got slower, along with his heartbeat, and the very last coherent thing that ran through his mind before losing consciousness was, _I can't wait to die._

* * *

"Joey!" yelled a vaguely-familiar male voice, banging on the door. "Joey, get dressed, the Reapings' are going to be on TV any minute now!"

Without giving it much thought, Joey jumped out of bed, to the walk-in closet, and got dressed in a dazed rush. A loose white shirt and jeans. He didn't even touch his hair (which usually got _extremely _messy after a night's rest) before flinging his door open. Caldwell was stood there, and right away he grabbed Joey by the shoulder and ushered him down the hallway and into a different room.

Aurora and Arielle were already there, seated as far apart from each other as possible on the couch. Caldwell sat in the reclining chair, and Joey decided that it'd be best if he just stood behind the couch.

"—we have all the Tributes from each District on their ways to the Capitol as I speak," said a young man on the TV screen with slick blue hair and a hooked nose. "I can tell from the teenagers who were Reaped that this is definitely going to be a good first Game!"

The screen faded to black, then jumped back into colour, showing a map of Panem. It zoomed into District 1, showing their Reaping. _Denise Donovan, 18. Joe Walker, 18._

The screen switched to District 2. _Jaime Lyn Beatty, 16. Jeff Blim, 18. _

District 3. _Ali Gordon, 15. Corey Lubowich, 16._

District 4. _Julia Albain, 16. Brian Holden, 17._

District 5._ Meredith Stepien, 16. Dylan Saunders, 18._

District 6. _Tessa Netting, 15. Joe Moses, 16._

Joey's sighed quietly when it zoomed in on District 7. _Arielle Goldman, 14. Joey Richter, 17._

District 8. _June Saito, 15. Tyler Brunsman, 15._

District 9. _Devin Lytle, 16. Nico Ager, 14._

District 10. _Lily Marks, 15. Darren Criss, 16._

District 11. _Britney Coleman, 18. Brian Rosenthal, 17._

The screen skipped right over District 12, which Joey knew was an absolute mess. The Capitol had destroyed it because that's where Katniss Everdeen-Mellark was from. Joey was unsure what the Capitol were doing to 12 now – whether they were trying to rebuild it, or just leaving it as a sort of warning to anyone else who should try and start a rebellion.

Instead it zoomed in on District 13. _Lauren Lopez, 15. Nick Lang, 16._

"Doesn't that look like a great group?" said the blue-haired man, once he was back on screen. "I'm kind of excited, sorry to say. I wish all the Tributes the best of luck, and I will be seeing you all s—"

An off-screen voice interrupted, "Who d'you think is going to win?"

The man paused, caught off-guard, then smiled and slicked back his hair with his hand.

"Well, I can't make an accurate guess right now," he said slyly. "I will tell you all who I think's going to win after I see them train. Have a good day, everyone. Wayne Flickerman, signing off."

The TV shut off. Joey continued to stare at it in complete horror – _he can't do that, can he?_ _He can't tell the audience who he thinks is going to win. That's against the rules, it has to be. The sponsors will only want whoever he chooses. _He looked round at Aurora and Caldwell, but neither seemed too shocked.

"I think breakfast is about ready," said Aurora, standing up suddenly. She ushered Joey and Arielle out of the room and into the dining room where they had eaten dinner last night. All of the chairs were empty and the nametags were gone. Aurora sat down at the same place as yesterday, though, so Joey did too.

Caldwell sat beside Joey, too. He and Aurora started piling their plates with bacon, eggs, waffles and pancakes, but neither Joey nor Arielle touched anything.

"Come on, you two, you've got to eat and g—" started Aurora, but Caldwell put up his hand and she stopped, looking disgruntled.

"Let them be." said Caldwell simply, biting a piece of bacon.

* * *

When Caldwell had finished eating, he told Aurora to bugger off and brought Joey and Arielle into the TV room. He sat on the recliner and they sat on the couch. He stared at them for a long time, making Joey feel very self-conscious.

"The Hunger Games are scary," Caldwell said eventually, "but so is everything else in this world, isn't it? You were terrified on your first day of school, right?"

"But we weren't in danger of _dying_ at school!" Joey said loudly, and without thinking.

Caldwell shrugged with one shoulder and sighed. "You're right," he said. "I don't know how to be a mentor."

"Be honest with us," said Arielle. Joey looked over at her. He'd never heard her speak before. "How did you win?"

"I didn't, remember?" said Caldwell. "I just got randomly chosen to mentor, maybe because my grandfather was in the Games, I don't know …" He exhaled heavily. "The Hunger Games is scary, right? Like Joey said – you're constantly in danger of dying. But you've got to get over it. Don't live in fear. If you train, you can win."

Arielle shuddered and raised her hand as if they were in school. Caldwell nodded at her. "Do you – do you think me and Joey should be allies?" she asked nervously.

"That's your choice. Oh, hey, look – we're almost there!"

Joey stood up and walked over to the window. They were going so fast everything was a blur. They definitely weren't in District 7 though; all the forest was gone, replaced by cement buildings. They slowed down and Joey moved aside so Arielle could see too. There was weird Capitol people outside, waving and screaming at them. Arielle walked back over to the couch. Joey smiled slightly at the Capitol people.

The train stopped and they hopped off on to the paved streets of the Capitol along with Caldwell, Aurora, and a few others. Peacekeepers pushed people out of the way and brought Joey and Arielle into an extremely tall building.

* * *

The elevator zoomed upwards so fast Joey's ears popped. When it stopped, he tumbled forward and would have smacked his head on the unopened door if Caldwell hadn't grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Have you been drinking?" he mumbled in Joey's ear. Keeth snorted. Blushing slightly, Joey shook his head.

"Follow me," said Aurora, when the elevator finally opened. Joey, Arielle, Caldwell, Keeth, Odyssey, Phavia, Arny, Fronk and Giovanna all followed her around the place. Joey didn't pay attention until she said his name.

"This is Joey's room," she said, motioning toward a door. "And right here, right across from it is Arielle's."

"I'm really tired," Arielle said.

"Me too," Joey said quickly.

Aurora frowned. "Oh, all right," he mumbled disappointedly. "Go have a nap, both of you. I'll come and get you once dinner's ready." She turned around and began walking again, and, sighing, the others followed.

Except for Caldwell, who leant down in front of Joey and Arielle, and whispered, "No funny business. Stay out of each other's rooms."

"Of course," said Joey honestly, then Caldwell turned and followed Aurora.

"Jerk," Arielle mumbled once Caldwell was out of earshot. Joey turned to her, utterly surprised.

"What'd you just say?" he asked.

Arielle looked a little uncomfortable. "Not _you," _she said, fumbling with her hands. "Caldwell. I don't like him."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not a reas—"

"Lay off it, Joey," Arielle snapped, then went into her room, closing the door on Joey's face. He stood there for a minute, frozen in shock, then began laughing and went into his room, shutting the door quietly.

* * *

Joey hadn't realised he'd fallen asleep until he was awoken up by Aurora shaking his shoulder.

"Joey," she whispered, "Joey, wake up. It's almost dinnertime. You've got to get ready."

He sat up groggily and yawned. _"Get ready?"_

Smiling evilly, Aurora motioned toward the bathroom. "Your dinner clothes are waiting for you in there," she said, then stood up and left the room. Joey cursed quietly, then got up and went into the bathroom, where a horrendously fancy suit was waiting for him. He sighed and stepped in the shower; this one was even harder to figure out, but it did most of the work for him. Eventually, when the shower thought he was clean enough, the water turned off and he stepped out, shivering.

He put on the suit, groaned at his appearance in the mirror, then walked out into the hallway where Aurora was waiting. Beside her stood Arielle, in a purposely tight-fitting white dress, but Joey barely even glanced at her. He was a little angry at her, to be honest, though of course he'd never let it show. He followed Aurora to the dining room, ate everything that looked even slightly appetizing, spoke his stylist, Arny, and then excused himself to his bedroom.

"Get a good sleep, kid," Caldwell called as Joey was walking away.

It was as though Caldwell jinxed him. Joey undressed into just his underpants, then crawled in the soft, sweet-smelling sheets, and waited for sleep. The room was incredibly dark, though it felt odd, because he was used to the gentle breathing of his mother. He sighed. None of this had bothered him the night before; he'd slept as easily and as soundly as a cat. But now …

Eventually, sleep came. It felt like a very short time before there was a knocking on his door, and Caldwell was throwing clothes at him, demanding that he get dressed quickly because they were already running late. Joey did as told, putting on the T-shirt and jeans that Caldwell had given him, then following Caldwell to the dining area. Aurora and Arielle were already there, and began eating as soon as Joey and Caldwell were seated.

Once they were finished, Aurora ushered Joey and Arielle down hallways and into the elevator, to a place apparently called the Remake Centre. Arielle went with Keeth whereas Joey was whisked away by Arny, to a pure white room where Fronk and Giovanna were waiting.

Joey didn't argue when he was told to undress, and bit his tongue while they plucked and waxed his bodily hair. It was strange, and quite painful, and he wondered vaguely how much pain Arielle and all the other girls had to go through, if _this _is what the boys had to go through. While Fronk was busy with Joey's eyebrows, Giovanna began applying a goopy blue cream onto Joey's hands.

"What's that for?" said Joey to Giovanna, without giving it much thought. He was unsure whether or not he was allowed to speak.

"Your hands," said Giovanna, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They're rough and dry."

"Sorry," Joey muttered.

Fronk chuckled under his breath, and said, "Tough guys have calloused hands, Gio."

Giovanna rolled her eyes.

After another ten or so minutes, Fronk and Giovanna stepped back. They both gave Joey a thumbs up before walking out of the room, leaving Joey standing alone wearing only a white robe. He waited patiently, slightly confused, until Arny entered, her hand on her chin. She didn't speak, but just circled Joey slowly, thinking hard.

"Lumber," she murmured, more to herself than to Joey. "Forests. Trees. _Paper." _She looked at him. "Right?"

"I – uh –"

"Right!" Arny answered her own question, before snapping her long fingers. Fronk and Giovanna came bustling back in holding a sort of creamy-coloured suit between them. They handed it to Arny, who motioned for Joey to drop the robe. He did so, blushing ever so slightly.

He was dressed in the suit, which, Joey realised, looked to be made of papier-mâché. It certainly didn't _feel _that way, but that's how it looked, and Joey thought it was much cooler than dressing up like a tree, which, according to the book Joey had read, is what Tributes from District 7 did in previous years. Arny, Fronk and Giovanna all admired their work, though Arny didn't seem completely satisfied.

"Hair," she stated.

"Yes, I was _just _thinking that!" said Giovanna excitedly.

"No!" said Joey, backing away when Arny came forward. "I mean – uh – please, ma'am, _please _don't cut my hair."

Arny frowned. She opened her mouth, but Giovanna interrupted.

"Oh, come on, boy, you'll _love_ it!"

_"Please,"_ Joey repeated, his hands up in surrender.

"Are you _sure,_ Joey?" said Arny, raising a perfectly-plucked eyebrow.

"Oh, Arny," Giovanna rolled her eyes once more. "Don't tell me you're going _soft! _You're allowed to do whatever you wish to the boy, no matter how hard he cries!"

"I do not wish to _upset _him –"

Fronk cut in, "He asked you nicely, Arn. Don't torture the kid. Leave his hair the length it is, and just style it up nicely."

"You've both gone soft!" Giovanna spluttered.

"Fronk is right," said Arny, nodding at the tall man, before grabbing a small jar of what looked to be clear jelly. He grabbed a handful, squeezed it so it oozed through her fingers, then nodded for Joey to take a seat. He did, and cringed heavily as Arny began applying whatever it was into his hair.

* * *

A/N: Hey, so, I know Tessa Netting isn't really a StarKid, but whatever. Review if you'd like!


	4. The Parade

Joey barely recognised himself when he gazed into the mirror. His longish brown hair was sleeked back, though purposely imperfect. His skin was clear and a little tanner than usual, all the blemishes, scars and freckles gone. His dark eyes sparkled the way Ms. Richter's used to, and his teeth looked dazzlingly white, if a little unnatural. He stood up straighter, puffing out his chest, and smiled.

Arny nodded, looking proud, then beckoned for him to follow. They stopped in the hallway, where Arielle was waiting with her prep team. Arielle's dress matched Joey's, looking to be made from papier-mâché newspaper clippings; it was knee-length and low-cut, with black trimming. Her curling brown hair was up in an elegant bun, though it also looked purposely imperfect, with a few stray hairs. Joey thought she looked good – not particularly beautiful, just good.

Arny and Keeth chatted away, while Giovanna, Fronk, Odyssey and Phavia bustled around, making sure Joey and Arielle's outfits were impeccable. Eventually Aurora showed up with Caldwell, and they all went up to a cramped sort of room where a golden chariot was waiting. Joey climbed on first, then Caldwell helped Arielle up.

"Quick talk," said Caldwell, waving to get both Joey and Arielle's attention. "This is your first real chance to impress the audience. Get them to like you, you know?"

"Are they going to be in an alliance?" asked Odyssey, in a sort of hushed tone.

Everyone turned to look at Joey and Arielle. Arielle blushed. Joey cleared his throat.

"No," he said firmly.

"I – uh – alright," said Caldwell, caught off guard. "Don't hold hands, then, I guess."

"No, no, _no!" _said Aurora loudly. "You two _must _hold hands."

"But –" Joey and Caldwell both started.

"I don't _care _whether or not they're in an alliance," Aurora talked over them. "They will hold hands, and they will smile."

_"Smile?" _Arielle scoffed.

"Yes," said Aurora. "Smile."

"We haven't talked about their personalities yet," said Caldwell. "So –"

Aurora interrupted once again, "I think Joey should be happy and bubbly, with Arielle more relaxed and put-together."

"Oh … uh," Caldwell considered this. "Yeah, sure, go with that."

Aurora's face broke into a grin at getting her way. "Very good! Goodbye, then, and _don't _forget to hold hands!"

* * *

The words _happy _and _bubbly _repeated over and over again in Joey's mind as the crowd screamed at him and Arielle. He smiled widely and waved, trying to ignore the aching feeling in his stomach. He looked sideways at Arielle, who was wearing a tight, nervous smile. Joey grabbed her hand and waved with it, causing the audience to get louder, and Joey to laugh. Arielle laughed, too, but Joey could tell it was forced. Eventually she wrenched her hand away from him, mumbling something about him being annoying.

"Aurora wanted us to hold hands," he whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"I don't care."

"I do."

Arielle rolled her clear brown eyes, and looked away. Joey clenched his fists, then remembered where he was and his face broke out into another huge grin. Once all the chariots had stopped, President Denver stood up and began giving a speech, but Joey wasn't paying attention. Arielle was twiddling with the end of her dress, making a tiny rip bigger.

"Stop," Joey hissed. "You're wrecking it."

"Mind your own business."

"Why do you hate me so much?"

Arielle sighed quietly. "I don't hate you," she whispered.

"Then what's your problem?"

"I'm just … angry."

"But not at me?"

"Not at you."

"Then who?"

"Everyone."

Joey paused, thinking this over, then nodded. "Understood."

* * *

"So," Caldwell cleared his throat. "What about skills?"

After the Parade, Joey and Arielle had been brought up to District 7's floor and sent to their rooms without any word. Joey had gotten changed, then laid in his bed fuming about how much he hated Arielle Goldman, until Caldwell had come and gotten him. Them, Arielle and Aurora were now sitting at the table, none of them really eating much of the dinner that was spread out before them.

"Axe," said Arielle. Nearly everyone from District 7 was excellent with those. "And running, I suppose."

Caldwell seemed unimpressed. "And you, Joey?"

"Axe. I'm alright with knives, too."

"You both are lame."

Arielle blushed. Joey shrugged.

"I was never really allowed to touch anything dangerous," Joey admitted. "No knives, no saws, no bows. My mother was scared I'd get hurt."

"Ah," said Caldwell. "What's your excuse, Arielle?"

Now she shrugged. "Same."

Caldwell sighed loudly, rubbing his temples as though he had a horrendous headache. "Tomorrow's the first day of training, you know," he said. "If I were you, I'd just scope it out. See who the real competition is. See who you'd want to be allies with. And no fighting."

"Yes, sir," said Arielle, through clenched teeth.

He looked up at her, face blank. "I liked it a lot better when you didn't talk."

* * *

A/N: Hey! Thanks for the reviews, they mean a lot! This is a shorter chapter but, like I said, I'm trying to hurry things up.


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